North Sea Martial Arts Warrior - Chapter 89

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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89. The Two Weights Upon the Scale

The walls of the Jegal Clan compound stood high and imposing.
Above the five-foot-thick gray brick, dark blue tile curved down with oppressive weight.
Inside and out, not a gap went unwatched. Guards were stationed densely at every blind corner—beneath the colonnades of the corridors, around the wells, wherever sight might be hidden.
In a courtyard where not even a breeze stirred, the silence of noon pressed down like stone.
“Halt. Your affiliation and business.”
The stranger had to pass through the gatekeeper’s rigorous questioning three times before being allowed to set foot inside.
One of the Five Great Clans of Mun-rim—and among them, the apex of intellect and the Qi Men Formation Technique. A house where strategy outweighed the blade. Naturally, their vigilance was absolute.

The midday sun carved long shadows through the corridors.
Against that light, a man made his way toward the great hall. At each step, he bowed deeply to those he passed in greeting.
“Master, all preparations are complete.”
The man did not slow his pace, even as his cousin spoke with such certainty.
“No fanfare. Keep to the plan. Not a hair’s breadth of deviation.”
“They should arrive before nightfall.”
“I know.”
Any clan claiming to be the brain of the martial world would have seen the northerners’ descent. More precisely, the moment those creatures crossed the border, the great abacus of the Jegal Clan had already snapped to attention.
The door slid open, and Fourth Younger Brother rushed in.
“Brother, they’ve changed direction. I’m certain now—this way is their target.”
“Distance?”
“They’ll be at our doorstep before the day ends.”
Though the great hall was crowded, no one stirred.
In the silence, Jegal Chan’s fingertips traced slowly across a map. A line drawn from the north seemed to terminate at the Jegal Clan’s gates.
“Faster than expected.”
At his dry remark, Eldest Son unrolled a scroll across the table.
“I’ll begin with their martial arts. We’ve gathered intelligence on three conflicts thus far. The annihilation of Bing Xue Dan assassins. Their master, Han A, fell in a single exchange.”
“Han A of the Bing Xue Dan…”
“In the Central Plains, he would rank beside the Heavenly Master of the Twelve Nights.”
“Such a man, defeated in one blow?”
Jegal Chan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“The second encounter was with the three monsters of the North Sea, the Han-Bing Three Terrors. They froze the Snow Field Demon Bear and the Frozen Earth Ice Tiger to death.”
Eldest Son paused.
The Han-Bing Three Terrors were supremely formidable. By cold analysis, they were considered a tier above even the sect masters of the Nine Sects One Alliance—true monsters.
These three launched a combined assault.
Three attacked; two died instantly.
‘The sword supreme under heaven…’
Cheok Un-hui came unbidden to mind.
It seemed only Cheok Un-hui could stand against the North Sea’s warrior.
‘The North Sea warrior is truly that strong? The legend of the North Sea… it’s real? Hah! A hornet’s nest struck hard… a wasp nest, at that.’
Jegal Chan let out a soft laugh.
Eldest Son continued.
“The third encounter was at Danhon Valley, and this… this is extraordinary. The North Sea warrior froze a dozen Snow Maidens and their commander, Bing Hwa, to death in an instant. It’s called Spatial Freezing, and…”
“Explain.”
“Bitter cold pours from his hands. Not merely bone-chilling—he freezes the air itself and turns the ground beneath his feet into a sheet of ice. Weapons caught in it freeze solid, and then the wielder freezes as well.”
“Is such a thing possible?”
……
Even Eldest Son could not answer this question.
“Then anyone who engages him is doomed. How in heaven could one overcome such a foe?”
“Distance offers no refuge. He freezes space itself, binding distant enemies with that cold. The eyewitness accounts are disturbingly consistent.”
“Hmm!”
Jegal Chan tapped the table lightly, twice.
Eldest Son pressed on.
“However, he does possess a weakness. Should our own forces remain within range, he cannot deploy that terrible cold indiscriminately.”
“His own men would freeze. A soft-hearted creature, then. And yet—the North Sea warrior is meant to possess an Ice Heart and a Cold Heart, is he not?”
“According to our findings, it is in that moment of hesitation. That single instant. That is his only opening.”
Jegal Chan’s fingertip came to rest at the map’s edge.
“…So it all comes down to how we exploit that gap. Victory or defeat turns on it.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Eldest Son unrolled another scroll.
“The Okmun Gwan engagement and the Maji battle played out exactly as reported. But these are no ordinary men. What follows are four warriors under the command of the—”
“That’s enough.”
Jegal Chan cut off the briefing.
He could infer his subordinates’ martial prowess from the Maji battle.
“And our surveillance?”
Eldest Son lowered his voice.
“For five days we’ve clung to them like a shadow, yet they haven’t the faintest suspicion we’re watching. Fortunately, someone else has attached himself to them as well—”
“And we couldn’t capture this other one either?”
“No, sir.”
Jegal Chan’s head bobbed in the faintest of nods.
While the northerners charged blindly forward, the Jegal Clan had dissected their swordwork with meticulous care. Half the battle was already won before the first clash.
“So. What is your conclusion.”
“Direct confrontation means mutual annihilation, sir. Neither side will emerge whole.”
“Mutual annihilation.”
“Yes. Therefore, it would be wise for us to offer a compromise first—to yield passage and let them through.”
“Since they are not our enemies, there is no need to spill blood.”
Jegal Chan began to weigh the matter.
Eldest Son’s logic was flawless. But flawless calculation is not always the best path.
Especially since these men came guided by someone. So long as suspicion runs deep at the root, they will never withdraw through compromise. And then—
“Parley with barbarians? Absurd!”
The Elder’s white beard trembled with fury as he cut in like a thunderbolt. He was Jegal Chan’s uncle and a celebrated master of the martial world.
“The Jegal Clan should bow its tail to northern savages? We should open the path first?”
“I do not propose we surrender our dignity. Only that we avoid needless bloodshed.”
“If word of this spreads through the Central Plains! What becomes of the Five Great Clans’ reputation!”
“Is reputation worth more than lives?”
“The moment we are branded as those who yielded passage to barbarians, our walls will be torn to shreds like paper!”
“Walls are defended by wit, not by face.”
“Should those wretches draw steel, then by flesh and bone we shall stand and fight—such is the pride of the Jegal Clan!”
“And you would let the clan be halved for the sake of that petty pride?”
“Even halved, a clan that fought is a thousand times more honorable than one that fled in cowardice!”
Rational compromise clashed violently with passionate pride.
Jegal Chan measured both weights in his silence.
His mind commanded retreat; his heart surged to stand firm. For a long moment he stared through the map, his finger tracing finally over the Jegal Clan’s position and pressing down.
“We do not yield.”
The Elder’s weathered face flushed with approval.
“But neither do we bleed like fools.”
The Elder’s expression hardened once more. Jegal Chan’s gaze turned cold and piercing.
“We fight with formations—utterly. A method of combat they do not understand. We exploit every weakness they possess.”
“What strategy do you propose, sir?”
“Formations. Keep the outer perimeter as it stands, and deploy the Exorcising Evil Demon Annihilation Formation within. Scatter them, splinter them into isolation—and their cold qi becomes useless. You said direct collision meant mutual annihilation? Then we arrange a battlefield where blades never meet at all.”
“The Exorcising Evil Demon Annihilation Formation! Does Father propose to win without spilling a drop of blood?”
“Drag out the time to drain their strength; use the formations to asphyxiate them slowly.”
All felt their spines chill as they withdrew.
It was not passion or wrath—only a calculation so ruthlessly cold it was terrifying.

The great hall, now empty of all subordinates.
Jegal Chan. Military strategist of the Mun-rim Alliance and household lord of the Jegal Clan. The long-time Kindred Spirit of Cheok Un-hui, the greatest swordsman under heaven. The architect of this realm, sketching the hidden contours of the Central Plains’ future.
He entered the inner chamber and opened a small chest.
From within it… spoils seized from the North Sea revealed themselves.
He had driven an Assassination Fan into the back of the North Sea’s Bing Gong-ju. He was one of eight enemies the northerners sought with hungry eyes.
Yet his true reason for traveling to the North Sea differed from Cheok Un-hui’s understanding.
Cheok Un-hui’s purpose was to obtain a single Seol-ryeon-gwa to save his daughter, but Jegal Chan’s gaze pointed elsewhere.
The legendary formation technique of Bing Gong—the Mysterious Ice Nine Palace Formation.
That was his true target.
An absolute barrier that governed cold qi through the principle of the nine palaces, trapping intruders in a nine-layered labyrinth of death. Should he seize it, the Jegal Clan would become an impenetrable fortress for all eternity.
He had slowly suffocated Bing Gong-ju until she surrendered the Formation Manual.
This was something even Cheok Un-hui did not know.
His friend believed he had simply traveled alongside him out of loyalty.
It was a deception, though he harbored no regret.
He had merely picked up one more prize that had fallen to the ground.
Jegal Chan caressed the outer cover of the Formation Manual.
The faded silk binding still held the chill of Bing Gong—his fingertips went numb at the touch.
‘If only I had obtained this a little sooner…’
Had the Jegal Clan only deployed the Mysterious Ice Nine Palace Formation now, not even Aelak’s grandfather would have pierced their defenses.
As he unfolded the manual, dense ciphers and symbols poured forth like a waterfall. Even he, whom the world called the finest mind under heaven, had yet to fully decipher the quintessence of Bing Gong, forged across a thousand years.
A hand he held but could not play.
The most fatal secret of the Jegal Clan, and the bitter truth only he knew.
Jegal Chan placed the manual into its case without hesitation and sealed it. A card one cannot use at this moment is best buried and forgotten.
Yet the unease would not fade.
Only the hollow echo of footsteps in the corridor disturbed the empty room.
‘Who could it be…?’
His mind teemed with thoughts of this unknown figure.
The northerners moved southward with such precision, without a moment’s hesitation. Could they truly pinpoint eight assassins who struck down the Bing Gong Master so swiftly, across the vast expanse of the Central Plains?
Too eerie to be mere chance.
Impossible without someone clearing the path.
“For them to aim at my throat so directly means they have a guide. There is a traitor within.”
A statement spoken with absolute conviction.
Faces of suspects flickered rapidly through his mind.
His cold gaze lingered and withdrew from each visage in turn.
But rooting them out could wait. The rats within the walls could not flee, but the mad dogs at the gate had to be stopped at once.
Jegal Chan seized the Assassination Fan hanging upon the wall.
A murder weapon—jade handle, steel spines forged within.
“This will do.”
The hand that gripped the jade handle moved as one who wielded a sword, not a fan. As he half-opened the spines, cold steel flashed ominously.
Just as when he had split the Bing Gong Master’s back—would he split Aelak’s back today?
The world mocked the Jegal Clan as possessing only a large head and feeble fists.
Wrong. The head was genius, and the fists were supreme.
Because he wielded both, the clan stood among the Five Great Clans. The fools saw only the mind displayed openly and never glimpsed the fangs hidden away.
Swoosh!
As Jegal Chan opened the Assassination Fan wide, a keen killing intent filled the chamber.
“Beasts of the North Sea… come then. Let’s see if that frozen grip of yours can sever my throat.”
Jegal Chan—even in a contest of martial skill, he had confidence to defeat Aelak. For now his body was like refined steel.
For the first time in his life, he breathed forth not the cunning of a mind but the raw, blazing fury of blood.
Even as the sun descended at this very moment, their blades pressed ever forward toward the Jegal Clan.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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